


Milk of Human Kindness II: Derek's Milkshake Brings All the Boys to the Yard

by Always_Bottom_Derek



Series: Milk of Human Kindness Verse [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Anal Sex, Bitching/Turning, Bottom Derek Hale, Breeding Bench, Cock Warming, Collars, Come Eating, Come play, Cultural Bestiality, Dirty Talk, Docking, Enemas, Fisting, Fucking, Hucow Derek or Dairy-Were Derek, Just know Derek gets fucked somehow by every character listed, M/M, Male Lactation, Master/Pet, Milking, Objectificaton, Oral Sex, Piercings, Rape/Non-Consensual Sex, Vouyerism, Werewolves are Considered Livestock, talk of breeding, talk of knotting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-23 04:46:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13780017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Always_Bottom_Derek/pseuds/Always_Bottom_Derek
Summary: Dairy-were Derek is settling into his new milking routine and is finally getting far enough along in the "turning" process it's time for him to get bred and fully settle into bitch-hood.





	1. I Like My Coffee With Cream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SleepDepraved](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepDepraved/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go... A sequel to the first "Milk of Human Kindness" fic. 
> 
> Like Derek's milk, this verse is a little addicting.

Boston bag in one hand, with his other Deaton opened the small side door to the Stilinski’s garage with the key Stiles had given him.

Since he’d agreed to take over Derek’s milking, it meant he had to leave his home an extra hour and a half early on milking mornings to still get to the clinic before it opened. Even so, he’d found the “quality” time he got to spend with Stiles’ dairy-were bitch was well worth the inconvenience.

And it wasn’t as though he had to do it every day. Despite his initial recommendation Derek be milked twice daily, once they’d discovered having his milk build up only made it more flavorful and creamy, they’d gone to only expressing his cock-tit once every forty-eight hours instead.

Of course, this was a little hard on poor Derek: leaving his balls to build up to such significant pressure and heft. But it was worth it because, not only did it make his yield more valuable, it also made the dairy-were more compliant.

Not that Derek was obdurate by any means. No, any resistance he had towards his human keepers had been trained out of him during his years with the Argents. It was more that the werewolf didn’t seem to embrace his bitchood as eagerly as Deaton had anticipated or, if he was honest, hoped for. Because secretly he loved a wanton dairy-were; it was one of his favorite creatures to work with.

But with Derek there was always a quiet reluctance. And despite all Deaton’s encouraging, the Hale werewolf continued to exhibit a certain shyness, at least, until he was thoroughly worked up, before he seemed able to fully embrace his slutty bitch nature.

Deaton did have to admit though, as much as he savored it when Derek was at his sluttiest, there was also bit of him that really enjoyed their soft every-other-day battles. Especially since he always triumphed in the end.

Pushing into the Stilinskis’ refurbished garage as these thoughts rolled through his mind, Deaton’s eyes widened in surprise seeing the Sheriff there. Normally the man was asleep or already down at the station when he stopped by.  

John had Derek tethered in the tiled, open shower stall now located where his shop’s sink had once stood.

“Morning, Doc. Hope you don’t mind.” John nodded to him and then swung his chin Derek’s direction.

“Had the day off and thought I might take Derek for a ride with me out in the country. He’s been a little anxious lately for some reason. I figured a bit of a run once his bag was emptied might do him some good.

“Wanted to get an early start though, so I thought I’d do some of his daily maintenance so you could get done with him quick today.”

It was clear what “maintenance” John had undertaken, his hands still gripping the hose in Derek’s ass and the dairy-were’s belly bloated with water.

Deaton worked to hide his disappointment, since giving the wolf his pre manual milking enema was one of the highlights of their time together (at least for him). Although from his current vantage point he was getting to witness Derek’s cleaning from a view he didn’t normally have the chance to.

While most wouldn’t say a creature like Derek had access to such a deep human emotion as humiliation, seeing his hectic cheeks and pink ears it was easy to anthropomorphize. The curve of Derek’s spine as he tried to shield himself from Deaton’s gaze was lovely too. Even more so were his soft whines as he fought the cramps undoubtedly twisting his bowels.

John slipped a lubed plug into Derek’s ass as soon as the hose was pulled from it. The Sheriff held the stopper in place until he was sure the wolf’s cunt had done its magic tightening.

“You hold that now, sweetheart.” He delivered a sharp crack to Derek’s wet ass that made the end of the plug bob as the wolf’s hole clenched at the blow.

“Don’t know how many rinses you do, Doc, but that’s his third.”

“Oh, that’s perfect.”

“Great.” John washed his hands with the hose and hung it in its holster. “I was gonna get myself a cup of coffee while I waited. Want one?”

Deaton nodded as he set his bag and keys down on the garage’s one remaining and now refinished counter. “Very kind of you, Sheriff. Yes. Coffee would be much appreciated.”

“Be a good boy, Der, and you might get a treat too.” John called out over his shoulder. Though it wasn’t like Derek was going to go anywhere. Not with the rings in his nipples and the one in his udder attached to the chains anchored in the tiled floor.

“You spoil him, Sheriff.”

John shrugged and chuckled before disappearing into the house. “You sound like Stiles, Doc.”

Left alone with Derek now, Deaton’s eyes alternated between roving over the whimpering werewolf to roving over the remodeled garage. The reconfigured space was filled with other evidence of Derek’s spoiling. In addition to the washing station, the garage had been insulated and paneled; easily hosed down rubber matting now carpeted the concrete floor.

There was a large window with a mountain ash grate that flooded the garage with early morning sunlight, and a raised wooden bedding box for Derek to nest in filled with old, soft blankets instead of straw. But the purest example how his new owners doted on him was the top model, adjustable, leather-padded milking bench.

It was a little excessive, not that Deaton begrudged Derek having nice things after enduring years of industrial use. And the dairy-were’s sweet temperament easily inclined one to baby him. Not to mention, once they figured out his little “production issue”, the milker had certainly made enough money with his top quality cream for Stiles to indulge his cash cow a bit.

A whine just a little louder than usual caught Deaton’s ears and he turned his attention back to Derek. The wolf regarded him with wide teary eyes as he trembled with discomfort.

“You must get away with murder, using those cow eyes on your owners, huh, sweetie?” Deaton opened his bag and pulled out the fixings for Derek's newest bitching shot.

The werewolf began panting heavily with a combination of hope and hurt when the vet finally approached him. Derek yelped when the needle met the flesh of his hip. 

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Whines increasing in fervor and pitch, it seemed the dairy-were didn't quite agree with him. Though the way the wolf was wiggling his plugged ass it might have not been the shot Derek was complaining about.

"My goodness, such noises. You're getting awfully demanding, dear." After putting everything from Derek's bitching shot away, just to prove he was immune to Derek’s pitiful pleadings, or at least immune-ish, Deaton looked at his watch and allowed another sixty seconds to pass before he moved to show him any mercy.

Finally grabbing the plug with his bare hand, Deaton gave it a tug. Like usual, Derek’s ass had sealed tight around it.

“Come on, sweetie, give it up so we can get you on the bench.” He fucked the plug in and out as much as Derek’s tight ring allowed, slowly working it open.

Normally he reveled in this part of the purging process: watching the stretch and strain of Derek’s stubborn pussy as it tried to hold on to the plug. But knowing John could return at any moment stole some of Deaton’s enjoyment today.

As though beckoned by this thought, just as he popped the bitch’s plug out, the Sheriff returned bearing two cups of steaming black brew.

Deaton backed up while Derek quickly scrambled to squat over the stall’s drain as much as his bonds allowed without slipping. John nodded to the dairy-were.

“He’s pretty clean for an animal, huh, Doc? Doesn’t like getting his legs dirty. Not like some stock I’ve seen, lolling around with shit smearing their thighs.”

Since the Sheriff’s hands were full, Deaton took the liberty of grabbing the hose and spraying Derek down while he shat. Another sign of Stilinski spoiling he noted the water was above room temperature.

“Ah, well, those weres were probably in a commercial setting, I imagine. Left to their own devices they tend to be far more hygienic than most give them credit for.”

“You don’t say... My grandad's weres were always sort of sloppy.”

Deaton nodded and washed his hands after he’d sprayed down the tiles. Unfortunately John had clearly done a good job with the earlier two douchings, since everything Derek expelled had been remarkably clear.

Gratefully grabbing the proffered mug Deaton and took a deep draught while Derek remained hunched where he was, his guts empty but his asshole still spasming.

“Good stuff.”

“Mmmm, it is. But lately I find I like mine best with a little fresh cream in it.” John’s eyes slipped meaningfully from his mug to Derek.

“Oh?”

Deaton looked at the Sheriff more carefully and wondered why he hadn’t noticed before how clear John’s complexion looked. The wrinkles around his eyes had softened, the alcoholic veins in his nose faded, and his hair shone with a new lustre.

A faint pink added to the already robust pallor of the Sheriff’s cheeks. “Never could afford the good stuff before Stiles bought Derek. And I know some fellas don’t care for bitch milk, but that don’t bother me. Not when it’s as sweet as his is.”

Deaton gave him a tight lipped grin. “You can take it fresh from the source if you want to, Sheriff. Once he starts spurting.”

He handed his own mug back to John and bent to unclip the dairy-were. He didn’t miss how Derek's attention remained on his second master now that the Sheriff had returned. “If you want to stay while I milk him.”

“Hmmmmm” John hummed thoughtfully. “Haven’t seen a male bitch manually milked before. You sure you wouldn’t mind?”

Any doubts Deaton had evaporated when he heard Derek’s breath hiccup. “No… Not at all. I think it would be good for him, in fact. He’s been acting a little shy with me lately, so it would be beneficial for him to have an audience. It would remind Derek of his place and his purpose.”

“Well, sure then.” John watched as Deaton led Derek over to the bench, a light frown on his face. “But I hope you’re not saying he’s been difficult for you?”

The wolf crawled along behind Deaton and clambered up onto the milking bench with none of his usual hesitance, clearly wanting to show the Sheriff that this accusation was without merit.

“Oh, he’s not at all belligerent. But given his fertility treatments, I thought he’d be much more receptive than he has been.” Derek shivered under Deaton’s hand as his own were strapped down to a yoke that extended from the padded support that cradled him just under his fat pecs.

The bench ran the length of Derek’s torso, stopping at the cradle of the dairy-were’s pelvis. It was positioned to leave him chest down, ass up in a presenting position, his udder and heavy milk sac left hanging and easily accessible.

A light smack to Derek’s thighs had them immediately spreading, aligning themselves with the leg rests attached to the bench’s central support. Its steel base was bolted down into the concrete that lay under the rubber matting, guaranteeing Derek could take a pummeling without fear of the bench toppling over.

After a thick strap secured the dairy-were’s waist and his legs were buckled in place, Deaton went over to the high-end milking machine Stiles had bought to replace his initial secondhand model. This unit was made to accommodate both male and female milkers, so it had two separate pumps.

Removing Derek’s holding pec rings, the vet attached the first set of pumps to the dairy-were’s nipples. They’d been made plump and dark by the piercings and the wolf’s recently undertaken tit milkings.

“He seems to like that,” John observed, nodding to Derek’s fat udder, not hard but already drooling clear fluid as soon as his nipples were touched. He sat down on the edge of Derek’s bedding box and set Deaton’s coffee mug on one of its corner posts.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Deaton chuckled as he flipped the switch and the machine began pumping.

As soon as the suction started Derek moaned like a whore and tipped his head back as far as his bonds allowed. His eyelids fluttered and his eyes rolled as the cups on his nipples strongly sucked at his tits. Within seconds his udder was hard. Every vein lining the fat shaft dilated, it twitched and spasmed, spurting percome for several seconds almost like Derek was pissing.

“Huh, will you look at that? You weren’t kidding, were you,Doc?!”

John rose and moved up to the front of the bench. He grabbed Derek’s bangs, pulling the dairy-were’s dark head back even further, exposing his strong throat. “I knew you liked your chest rubbed, but you’re a full blown titty slut. Aren’t you, baby?”

Drool soaked Derek’s chin stubble already and hung in thin strands from the bottom of his jaw. He stared up at the Sheriff and whined in pitiful agreement. John smiled down on the whimpering werewolf.

“Look at you being such a sweet bitch. Open up, Der. Told you I’d give you a treat.”

Derek struggled to mind, clearly overwhelmed by the stimulation of his nipples, but like the good stock he’d been trained to be, he opened his mouth and rolled out his tongue.

John hawked and then slowly spit, letting his saliva dangle until the weight of the glob became too heavy. When his spit string severed, the fat drop hit Derek’s tongue and he wasted no time sucking it into his mouth. John chuckled at his eagerness.

“You like that, don’t you?” Releasing Derek’s hair, he gave the wolf’s fuzzy cheek a light slap. “You keep being a good boy, there’s more where that came from.”

Derek whined when John stepped out of sight and around behind him to observe the vet’s progress. Deaton wasn’t working as quickly as usual: witnessing the interactions between the Sheriff and Stiles’ pet project had slowed him down a little, their dynamic not just interesting, but arousing as well.

Seeing Deaton’s dark eyes on him, John shrugged. “One of us needed to bond with him, keep him mellow.” He shook his head. “Stiles wasn’t going to do it.”

“No need to explain, Sheriff,” Deaton assured sensing John’s embarrassment. “You’re taking excellent care of him. If you weren’t, he wouldn’t be responding so quickly to the counter evolutionary treatments he’s been getting.”

He tipped his head in the direction of the tubes running from Derek’s tits to the pump. “He’s already producing about six ounces a milking and he’s not even bred up yet.”

John watched with a hungry expression while Deaton’s hand worked the wolf’s hole open and slipped inside. Like usual, Derek huffed and cried as his ass was filled with the vet’s fisted false-knot, despite the fact it went in pretty easily, since the enema had left his muscles lax and his recently unplugged hole mildly gaping.

Deaton spoke while he waited for Derek to adjust to the fullness.

“Your mug, Sheriff...”

Eyes widening in understanding, John grinned. He hunkered down and grabbed Derek’s udder with one hand while his other thrust his mug under its purpled tip. At the sensation of the heat and the steam of the brew so close to his sensitive cockhead Derek started to squirm in his bonds.

“Easy now, Der, hold still. You go fussing and you’re just likely to get burned.”

John held his coffee cup steady while he gave Derek’s cock a few squeezing pumps. At this, combined with Deaton’s suddenly thrusting fist, the dairy-were’s whole body shuddered in its straps and Derek’s udder erupted with several forceful jets that filled John’s coffee mug to the brim with creamy white froth.

“There you go… That’s a good bitch.” John looked over to Deaton’s mug. “Want some?”

Deaton nodded, pleased at the consideration. The first secretions always contained the most nutrients. John topped this second mug off and set it back on the post for him to have later. Then he took a big swig from his own.

“Fuck that’s good.” He grinned and wiped off his white were-milk mustache with his sleeve.

Then, without waiting for Deaton to ask him to, he moved over to the milking machine. Grabbing Derek’s dribbling cock-tit, he held it tight at its base to keep him from losing any more of his precious fluids.

The Sheriff slipped Derek’s piercing out and the udder sleeve on. Once sure the suction tube was secure, he moved over to the milker and turned on the second pump. Derek howled when the machine’s hard suction claimed his cock.

“He always so loud, Doc?”

“Ah, no, actually. But usually I gag him.”

Deaton looked up from Derek’s plump rump and noted the bulge of John’s jeanfront. Either from watching the wolf take his fist, or as a result of the fresh bitch milk in John’s coffee, the Sheriff’s cock was hard. As John made his way over to the tack closet to pick up a ball gag Deaton stopped him.

“You know, you could give Derek another ‘treat’ if you wanted.” He had to raise his voice a bit for it to carry over the rumble of the pump and the liquid squelching of his fist in Derek’s cunt.

He waved his free hand tactfully acknowledging John’s crotch. “I wouldn’t mind if you did. In fact, at this point in his turning, even though he can’t catch from it, an infusion of stud seed, werewolf or human, is only going to speed his process along.”

John looked thoughtful for a moment, his eyes shifting back and forth between Deaton and the dairy-were. Finally he shrugged and returned to the head of the bench. Opening his jeans, he pulled out his engorged cock. It was nowhere near the size of a werewolf stud’s, but for a human it was still sizeable.

“You want another treat, Der? Do you?”

He fed his dick between Derek’s gasping lips, being careful of the wolf’s teeth. Both he and Deaton sighed when this shut off Derek’s cries and the wolf began to instinctively suckle. John grabbed the collar around Derek’s neck and used this as an anchor. Rocking back and forth on his heels he lazily fucked Derek’s mouth.

“So, outta curiosity, Doc. Once he turns completely, how will we know it? Does he go into some kind of heat or something?”

“Oh no. That’s a common misconception,” Deaton called over the sounds of the pump, Derek’s low moans, and the squelching of his fist in the bitch’s pussy. “Unlike female dairy-weres, if successfully turned, male bitches don’t have heats. They’re just constantly fertile.

“I’ve always thought it ironic that stigma keeps them from being considered generally desirable since, because of this, they are easier to breed up than true females.

“No, what will happen at the onset is Derek will develop a temporary intolerance for even manual milking. His greedy cunt will crave a real knot and his udder won’t express without it.

“Once that happens we’ll know it’s time to breed him up.”  Deaton slapped Derek’s ass hard and watched as at the impact, a fresh pulse of milk filtered up the tube from the milking sleeve and was sucked into the pump’s canister. “Things should go back to normal once he catches his first calf.”

John grunted in response to this information and because Derek’s eager sucking wasn’t going to allow him to last long. He pulled out just before he came, decorating the bridge of Derek’s nose with his first spurts before shoving his cock back into the dairy-were’s mouth.

“Smell, that sweetheart? That’s your alpha, your master. Breathe that scent in and don’t forget who owns you.”

It was hard to imagine a more greedy sound than Derek’s growling whine at these words. He sucked John’s seed down like hoover. Around Deaton’s fist Derek’s cunt clenched hard and his whole body shuddered.

An overflow alarm suddenly sounded on the pump attached to Derek’s shooting udder. Seeing this, the way Derek’s body reacted to the Sheriff’s words, had Deaton suddenly wondering if the dairy-were’s recent reluctance wasn’t maybe an indication Derek was even further along in his turning than he’d thought.

Deaton continued pumping for a few more minutes while he ruminated over what the accelerating factor in Derek’s turning could be, ignoring the fact that after a such a massive release Derek’s sac was likely empty and the only thing his unrelenting fisting was producing now was the wolf’s pained whines.

Meanwhile, up at Derek’s other end, the Sheriff rubbed his spent cock on Derek’s spunk-spattered face, gathering his cooling seed up on its tip to feed this to the wolf too.

“You look so pretty all painted up, but there’s no need to waste this, is there?” John laughed, as Derek’s mouth immediately opened wide in agreement.

While the Sheriff allowed Derek to clean his cock, Deaton finally extricated his fist from the ruin of Derek’s ass. The vet cleaned himself up and then turned off and checked the pump.

“Good haul today. More than usual… Yes. I think Derek’s getting close to tipping into full bitchhood.”

He took two sanitized bottles down from the shelf near the pump and emptied Derek’s tit milk into one. From the wolf’s massive cum harvest he filled the other bottle, his portion to take with him, and put the rest away in the garage refrigerator for Stiles.

John had put his cock away now and was rubbing Derek’s ears. The wolf’s eyes were half closed and the noise he made was caught between a purr and a snore. John pulled his hands away and Derek’s heavy-lidded eyes fluttered open.

“Don’t worry about unstrapping him, Doc. I’ll do it. And put the maintenance cream on his tits and udder too, since I gotta get him tacked up for our outing anyway.

“Sounds good. Besides, I usually let him lay there a bit. He’d tends to be pretty tuckered out after a good harvest. Spoiled thing…” Deaton smacked Derek ass good-naturedly and picked up his mug. He and John shot the breeze while they finished their coffee.

Every now again, however, Deaton couldn’t help but glance over to admire Derek’s puffy, fucked out hole still on display for them. He always felt a bit conflicted watching it recover: sad to see it lose its gape but excited to restore this soon enough.

Coffee gone, news caught up, Deaton picked up his bag and his bottles and headed out to his car. Once he got there, however, he realized he didn’t have his keys with him. He figured he must have set them down with his bag originally and somehow overlooked them. He placed his things next to his vehicle and returned to the garage to fetch them.

He’d only left so recently Deaton didn’t think to announce himself as he entered. It was a good thing too, as the sight that met his eyes could have caused the Sheriff quite a bit of embarrassment if he’d been conscious someone else was there.

Oral bonding with werewolves was common, but given their animal status, societally, fucking them was still considered by most to be taboo. At least within polite company. Still it inevitably happened sometimes, like here, now, in the Stilinski garage.

Derek was still strapped tight into the milking bench and John was behind him, his jeans around his ankles ploughing him with all the power of a feral stud. Not only that, but the Sheriff had turned the pump on again. From the volume it was clearly on a lower setting. But with all three of his tits empty, even at this, the simulation would likely be overwhelming for the dairy-were, if not a bit painful.

Deaton knew he should have been disgusted by this revelation, or at least off put, but on the contrary, the picture of the dairy-were being sucked and fucked by his secondary owner actually elicited quite the opposite response.

Of course, this was aided by the fact that John’s pale white asscheeks were remarkably round. Watching the pulse of these marvelous glutes and the muscles of the Sheriff’s flanks flexing as his hips snapped brutally against Derek’s lush ass was intoxicating.

Mesmerized, Deaton stood and watched, quickly losing any fear of being noticed: John was entirely focused on the bitch he was breeding. Not that Derek could catch from human seed. Though if ferocity had been able to make human and werewolf exchanges viable; Deaton had no doubt the Sheriff would have had a genuine chance of knocking the male bitch up.

And this explained too why Derek turning had progressed so quickly. Human or not, his greedy bitch cunt had responded to the stimulus of its perceived stud’s seed and was clearly rushing to serve.

It was a little embarrassing for Deaton how immediately his cock filled, watching this sordid scene. Usually able to remain detached, he blamed Derek’s cream in his coffee for his reaction. His mouth fell open, his breathing quickly became heavy as one of his hands dropped to the crotch of his slacks to knead himself.

Despite how furiously he was fucking, John didn’t stop or slow down as the minutes rolled by. It was clear that the potent virility enhancers contained in the fresh milk he’d been consuming had truly worked its magic on him too.

Soon Deaton was panting so loud in empathic exertion that had the garage been quiet, he would have surely been noticed. Fortunately for him the room was filled with so many sounds: the quieted pump, Derek’s ragged bleating, the grunts punched out of him with every brutal thrust to his cunt, the loud smack of hips and ass colliding, the sealish bark of the bitch’s newly tight and wetly-gasping pussy sparked by John’s frictioning dick.

But louder than all of these was the Sheriff himself. As he slammed into the bound dairy-were a torrent of harsh, dirty talk fell from John’s normally reserved mouth.

“Take that you filthy little dairy-whore. Yeah, baby… You fucking love it, don’t you? Fucking cumslut, cow cunt. Little breeding bitch. Shaking that sweet ass at everything that moves.

“You’re just begging for a stud to fill your greedy cunt, aren’t you, Derek? You want it, need it, crave it… Dirty bitch. Live hanging off a big fat knot if you could, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?

“Shit yeah… love it when you clench.

“Do it again!”

SMACK! John’s broad palm came down hard on Derek’s ass and the skin beneath it immediately bloomed pink.

“Yeah, bitch. Work that fucking slutty pussy!”

SMACK!

“Feel so fucking good on my cock… Unf!... Your tight cow cunt…”

SMACK!

Derek was loudly bawling now, his ass glowing red, his udder caught in the milking sleeve hanging fat, limp, and dry. Every drop wrung from his balls, fucked out of him by his owner, Deaton knew the wolf must be feeling considerable pain at this point. But even so, given the way the dairy-were writhed in his bonds, he felt certain Derek was loving every bit of this extra attention.

“Want me to fuck a fat calf into you, don’t you, Derek. Pump your ass full of cum…”

SMACK!

“That’s what you’re made for isn’t it, you fucking were-slut! All three of your udders leaking with milk 24 hours a day. Your fucking belly swollen bigger than a beach ball!”

SMACK!

“Fucking grind that ass on my dick! Goddamn... Yeah!”

SMACK!

“Like that. Use that greedy pussy, baby!”

SMACK!

“Make your stud come…”

SMACK!

“Oh, god! Fuck…..

SMACK!

“Take it…”

“Take it….

SMACK!

“FUCK YEAH! Ugh!...”

John collapsed over Derek’s sweat glossy back as he climaxed making the loudest and most lewd grunts Deaton had ever heard.

The Sheriff kept his cock sheathed in Derek’s ass, coming inside his bitch cunt. His hips continued to pulse slowly even after he’d come, John’s cock eager to drive its seed as deep as it could in attempt to anoint Derek’s quickening womb.

Once he’d finished, John was pressing lazy kisses to the tattoo between Derek’s broad, trembling shoulders. He lavished him with whispered praises between these, calling the dairy-were “sweetheart” and “baby” in an entirely different tone than he had used mere moments before.

Now that his frenzy had passed, he was also sure to tell Derek what a “good boy” he had been, how well he had taken his “breeding.”

The Sheriff had grabbed the Milking machine’s remote before starting to fuck the dairy-were and had tucked it into the strap securing Derek’s thigh. He pulled it out now and switched off the pumps, keeping his cock still buried in Derek’s ass. The dairy-were shuddered in relief but burst into a fresh bout of crying.

John cooed at Derek as he sniveled and sniffed. The fingers of one of the Sheriff’s hands stroked through the panting wolf’s damp hair while the other rubbed light soothing circles over a cheek of Derek’s abused, red, bruised bottom.

As this was going on Deaton quietly grabbed both his keys and his leaking erection and slipped out of the garage. Even though he’d just watched them fuck, it seemed a little too intrusive to stay and peep on such a tender display of affection.

Returning to his vehicle Deaton was already counting the moments until he could watch Derek get bred again. He smiled, jacking off in his car’s front seat, knowing that if the Sheriff kept giving the dairy-were such special treatment, he’d be overseeing Derek’s true seeding before he knew it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging out with me in this fucked up little world I'm crafting.


	2. Butterchurn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my problem: I start out with a simple idea. For example, what if I turned Derek into a hucow? 
> 
> And I think it will be like a quick fuck, you know? Get in, get off, get out. 
> 
> But then my brain starts working and wants to know all the angles, starts asking questions, building worlds.
> 
> The next thing I know there's a whole fucked up verse with 15+ page chapters and some weird subtext.

“Hey, Der,” Stiles called out stepping into the garage.

At his hail there was a papery shuffle and the ruffle of sheets. The dairy-were had been curled up in his nesting box and peered out over its edge, green eyes wide and looking more than a little guilty. 

Stiles set his backpack on the counter and frowned. “What are you up to now?” There was a hint of fatigue in his voice.

For the most part, Derek was remarkably well behaved, but on days like this, left alone and unrestrained while both his masters were away, he often seemed to find ways to get into gentle mischief.

Then Stiles’ eyes fell on the open cardboard box half-hidden under the platform of Derek’s nest.

He and his dad had cleaned out everything potentially dangerous from the garage when they’d turned it into their makeshift stable. But because storage was tight, his dad left some benign boxes tucked here and there.

The first time Derek had gotten into one, Stiles arrived home from school to find him sitting cross-legged on the garage floor amidst dozens of his childhood comics. Thankfully they weren’t collectors' items, but he’d still been more than a little cross with his stock’s intrusion into his other property.

At least until he saw how carefully Derek handled the comic books. As soon as he’d started scolding him, despite trembling in anticipation of a punishment, Derek had folded up the one lying open on his bare thigh, and then gathered up the others, gently stacking them back in the box.

Stiles asked Deaton about this strange behavior the next time their paths crossed at a milking. The vet told him Derek was remarkably intelligent for a dairy-were and that he probably just enjoyed looking at the pictures.

After that Stiles allowed Derek to peruse his old comics as long as he continued to be careful. Recently, however, the dairy-were had broken into another box, one that still held a bunch of his mother’s cherished romance novels. Upon discovering these the wolf’s attention had shifted.

Stiles kept putting this box away and Derek kept pulling it out; it had become sort of a game between them. Stepping up to the dairy-were’s nest Stiles tapped an open cardboard flap with a sneakered toe.

“Again, big guy?”

He sighed as the wolf shrunk back, scooching himself onto a quilt-filled corner.

Derek wasn’t nearly as wary as he had been when Stiles first got him, but he did tend to be apprehensive when he thought he might be in trouble. The werewolf’s thick brows dipped worriedly as he pulled a dog-eared paperback out from under his covers and held it out. Derek gave a light sniffle and his eyes looked a little glassy, their rims red.

”I’m not mad.” Stiles took the proffered book. “I just don’t know why you’re so obsessed with these. There’s no pictures in ‘em. And even if you could read, which is ridiculous... I mean… Ugh. Right?”

It wasn’t until they’d gotten Derek and he’d liberated these novels that Stiles had made the embarrassing discovery his mother was an early fangirl. Looking down at the paperback in his hand, he grimaced. The book’s stylized cover held the picture of two burly cowboys embracing.

A tawdry font proclaimed _What Beats Beneath the Badge: A Tragic Tale of Longing, Love, and Loss._ One of the cowboys had a sheriff’s star on the front of his shirt.

This at least cleared up some of Derek’s mysterious attraction to the box. The dairy-were had formed an obvious attachment to the Sheriff not long after Stiles brought him home, so it wasn’t too much of a stretch imagining him staring at the cover all day pining for his second master.

Stiles held the book out offering it back with a sigh. Derek hesitated but then took it, handling the paperback with his usual reverence.

“Miss my pop, huh, buddy?”

As usual Derek didn’t answer, just dipped his head as he tucked the book carefully back beneath his blankets.

Stiles reached out and ruffled black bangs. “Bet he misses you too. He sure seems a lot happier since we got ya.” Derek pushed up into the touch a low, pleased rumble sounding in his broad chest.

“Healthier too. I mean, I never thought he’d take up jogging with you like he has. Your milk has him looking about ten years younger. And he hardly ever goes to the bars after work anymore.”

Stiles rubbed behind Derek’s ear and watched the wolf’s eyes fall shut. “He hasn’t even brought any liquor into the house in the past couple weeks. And that’s something, I tell you.”

Derek sighed when Stiles pulled his hand away.

“But hey, you’re not the only one feeling abandoned, you know. Lydia’s doing remedial obedience classes with Jackson. _Again._ Allison’s busy with Cora. Scott’s working. It sucks. Another afternoon I’m on my own.”

It had become a habit for Stiles to ramble around Derek. Not that the dairy-were likely understood half of what he said. Still, it was nice to be allowed to chatter at someone who didn’t shush him or tell him he talked too much. And Derek never got frustrated when he suddenly jumped around topics either. Like now.

“You need to go potty, Der?” In affirmation, Derek immediately climbed out of his box.

“I still can’t believe how easy it was to house train you. Lydia’s had Jackson for years and he’s still pissing in her houseplants.” Stiles snorted at this. His expression shifted to concerned seeing how stiffly his stock was moving. His eyes dropped down to the naked milker’s balls.

“Oh yeah… Deaton texted me this morning that he’d been having trouble milking you the past couple of days. Guess you’re just about to tip over in your turning, huh? Hope he finds a stud for you soon.”

Derek dropped his eyes and a low whine escaped him.

“Yeah! I bet you’re excited for that, huh. Get a big knot in your cunt and a belly full of calf.”

Stiles picked up his backpack and unlocked the door that led from Derek’s stable into the house. Following behind him Derek whined again, but it didn’t exactly sound eager.

* * *

Stiles changed his clothes into something more comfortable while Derek finished up in the bathroom. It was a profound relief to say the least, that his wolf didn’t need assistance in that regard: being both efficient in his elimination and fastidious in his clean up. 

Exiting his bedroom, Stiles found the male bitch waiting for him in the doorframe of the bathroom as he’d been ordered. Given how pent up Derek was, taking him back to his garage-barn and putting him on his treadmill like he would have usually done, didn’t seem like the best thing at the moment.

“I know you’re not supposed to be in the house outside pottying, but you wanna come watch me play again?”

Stiles didn’t wait for an answer before heading towards the front room. “I won’t tell my dad if you won’t.” He rambled along as he walked telling the dairy-were details from his day. Derek followed silently behind him.

“Go, sit.” Stiles waved at the couch once they’d reached the front room. “I’m gonna get snack.”

When he returned from the kitchen, lean arms laden with junkfood, Derek was kneeling beside the couch as he’d been directed. This was good. What wasn’t good was that he was touching the stack of Stiles’ vintage nintendo cartridges on the coffee table.

“Hey! No no, Derek! Bad!”

Derek’s dark head popped up at the shout and he pulled his hand away like he’d been burned. Frowning, Stiles set his loot down on the coffee table. Derek leaned over and nuzzled one of his hands.

“Okay… Yeah… I get that you’re sorry. But you know better than to touch things.” Seeing the chagrined expression on Derek’s face, Stiles couldn’t stay angry long. He scratched Derek’s scalp through his bangs.

“What’s with you today, buddy? Why are you getting into everything, huh?”

Derek shifted where he knelt, making room for Stiles to flop down on the couch. He gave a soft huff when Stiles pulled his hand away anyway to pick up the remote and turn the TV on.

“You need to behave better or I’m going to put you back in your stall.”

Stiles pulled out a game from his collection and popped it in the console. As it started, he opened a can of soda and after a swig, began rifling through his snack pile. From among the bags and boxes, he pulled a carrot and held it out.

“I don’t know if you deserve a treat or not, given all the mischief you're getting into today.” Stiles chuckled at the way Derek frowned at this. He wiggled the carrot teasingly. “You want this, buddy?”

There were a dozen other things in his pile of goodies that would have probably been a heck of a lot tastier, but he was as strict with Derek’s diet as he tried to be with his dad’s. This wasn’t for Derek’s health, however, since dairy-weres had to be one of the most robust creatures on the planet.

Truth was, processed food scraps, sugar, and too much meat impacted the quality and flavor of Derek’s various milks.

“If you want it, you have to open up.”

Stiles brows rose when Derek appeared to roll his eyes at this just a bit. But maybe he’d imagined it since a moment later, his mouth opened.

The carrot was about ten inches long, raw, thick, unpeeled and uncut. When the wolf went to bite down on it, Stiles stopped him. “Easy there, Der.”

He hummed thoughtfully watching Derek comply. Stiles was straight as they came but he had to admit, there was something stirring about the dairy-were right now. The way he looked sitting there obediently, naked, on his knees, his mouth open.

“Don’t bite until I tell you…”

His voice came out surprisingly husky as he began to pulse the carrot back and forth, sliding it over Derek’s extended tongue. Seeing the way the wolf submitted to him, the strokes became bolder and he pushed the carrot a little deeper in with every thrust.

Lydia was still barely allowing him to even kiss her, so having someone, _anyone_ , let him do as he pleased felt more than a little amazing. And while Stiles wasn’t attracted to Derek perse, the way the wolf watched him, trembling, wide-eyed and wary, holding himself still as he was played with, filled him with a sense of power that had his dick quickly on its way to hard.

Fascinated with Derek’s acquiescence, for once Stiles was quiet. Silently he fucked the wolf’s mouth with his ‘treat’, awed by how easily the dairy-were took it.

“God, it’s like you have no gag reflex at all, do you, Der?”

Derek’s throat bulged as the carrot sunk deep into his gullet. Soon drool hung frothy from his stubbled chin and his Adam’s apple tremored at the intrusion, but it wasn’t until Stiles finally noted the tears rolling down the dairy-were’s cheeks that he stopped.

Stiles own cheeks were flushed and his brow creased a bit when he finally pulled the carrot out.

Once his throat was open again, Derek gasped deeply trying to recover his breath. The “good bitch” Stiles uttered sounded more than a little bit breathless too. He gave the spit sloppy carrot to Derek to eat on his own and quickly turned his attention to his game, not wanting to linger on the dairy-were’s wrecked expression or the throbbing ache in his balls.

Stiles let his eyes glaze over as he moved Mario. After clearing a few levels he finally glanced back over at Derek again. He frowned seeing the wolf hadn’t eaten his carrot but knelt there silently with it still clasped between his hands.

“Hey, Der, you don’t want your treat?”

Derek kept his head down and, if Stiles believed it, offered what might approximate a half shrug.

“Are you pouting because I got after you?” Stiles caught Derek under his chin and lifted it. “You know you aren’t supposed to touch my things, right?

“Besides, what if you messed something up and I had to explain to dad what you were doing in the house?”

At the mention of the sheriff and his possible displeasure, a sweet little “v” formed between Derek’s bushy brows. He turned his head and pressed a shy lick to the hand holding his chin. The touch of the dairy-were’s lips and tongue to his skin didn’t bother Stiles like it used to.

In fact, today it sent a little shiver through him.

Because of Lydia’s previous decree that she wouldn’t let him put anything in her that had been inside any part of a beast like Derek, Stiles had held off all bonding with the wolf. But right now his cock was still half hard and his patience with his girlfriend worn thin.

“And how’s she gonna know…” Stiles whispered staring at Derek’s mouth. “It’s not like you’re gonna tell her. Right, big guy?”

He pulled his hand away and chuckled nervously at how the wolf’s eyes widened when he lifted his hips and pulled his sweats down to mid-thigh.

“Come on up here, bud. I have a better treat for you.” Stiles patted the couch beside him. Derek seemed to hesitate so he tapped the cushion again. “I know, I told you no couch, but we’re gonna make an exception today.”

“Der…”

Registering the irritation in his owner’s tone when he still didn’t move, this time when Stiles patted the space beside him, Derek dropped his carrot, slunk over and crawled up. “That’s better.”

Derek must have known he’d been pushing the edge of his master’s patience because he allowed Stiles to arrange him as he pleased. The result was the dairy-were curled up, half draped over Stiles lap, but still slightly supporting himself so as not to be too heavy,

Stiles tapped Derek’s closed lips with the head of his cock. “Open.” As soon as he did, Stiles grabbed the back of his head and pulled the dairy were’s mouth over his cock.

This was n’t the first time his dick had been inside another living thing but it was close. The only other being those were-bitches at the Argent’s auction. Stiles tipped his buzzed head backward against the couch’s cushioned back and groaned in bliss at the slick heat suddenly surrounding him.

He gave Derek’s cheek a light slap when the wolf instinctively started suckling. “No. Just hold it for a bit.”

Stiles wasn’t sure the wolf would understand the command. Whether it was his words or the slap, he was pleased when Derek did as he’d been told. Settling back against the couch he reveled in sensation. Not just the hot, wet silk of Derek’s mouth, but the weight of the dark head in his lap, the heated puffs of air from nostrils against his groin.

Stiles picked up his controller up and played for a while. Badly. The wolf remained still as instructed, but how was a guy supposed to concentrate with such a gloriously compliant mouth around his cock?

Setting his controller to the side, Stiles went to stroke through Derek’s bangs.

Derek’s eyes were shut tight, but he must have sensed his approaching hand because he stiffened and winced without pulling away just before Stiles touched him.

“Shhhh… you’re okay, Der. Good bitch.” With these soft praises, Derek’s muscular body relaxed. At least enough Stiles could use his hand in Derek’s hair to bob the dairy-were’s head on his cock.

He wasn’t the biggest guy, so while his dick filled Derek’s mouth, sadly, it didn’t choke him.

Stiles knew his dad had recently been bonding with Derek daily and this, plus the dairy-were’s other history, left his mouth skilled in a way no teenage girl’s would be.

Lips wrapped over his bunny teeth to protect his master’s cock, tongue curled to slick Stiles’ undershaft, Derek’s fuzzy cheeks hollowed in practiced time with the motions of his owner’s hand. Tipping his head back against the couch again, eyes closed, outside the occasional rasp of scruff, Stiles could imagine Derek’s mouth on him was any number of girls.

“Maybe it’s time to break out the depilatory and make you smooth again, huh, Der?”

For the first time Derek choked a bit, tightening the oral grip on Stiles cock. It was amazing. “Fuck, yeah… Shit! Why haven’t I been doing this every day?”

With his youth and inexperience Stiles didn’t last long.

Both hands now on either side of Derek’s head holding it in place, he bucked his hips. His pace was uneven as he fucked into the wolf’s passive mouth. Then Stiles’ hips stuttered and he groaned, spilling his cum down Derek’s throat. 

It felt like he’d shot a lot and looking down once he’d finished, the tears on the dairy-were’s face from the effort of keeping up seemed to confirm this.

“God, I needed that. Fuck…” Stiles released the dark head in his hands and stretched his arms across the back of the couch. “Bet you did too, huh, big guy? Dad was right, I shouldn’t have been shirking my responsibilities as your owner.”

Derek’s eyes were open now, but stared vacantly at the lean belly before them.

“Awwww, look at you… So content. Deaton was right, you’re just a needy little thing despite your size, aren’t you, bud.”

The dairy-were made a soft sound, and Stiles swore the wolf was crying in happiness. There was another barely-there flinch when he reached down and thumbed away fresh tears.

“Yeah, you’ve been needing this too. I see that now. Well, Lydia or not, I promise, Der, I’m gonna make sure and bond with you regular from here on out. Okay.”

Stiles groaned as Derek’s throat gave a pleasured little hitch. “Easy there… Stay still, buddy.... I know that probably exciting for you but I’m a little sensitive yet.”

The gentle command seemed enough, Derek stilled and Stiles sat back, relishing the sweet mouth warming his cock while he waited for it to deflate.

It took a couple minutes for him to realize his dairy-were’s mouth was so rousing he actually might not. He was young enough, his refractory period so brief, sometimes that happened: not going down before getting hard again.

“Looks like we’re going to get to catch up on our bonding backlog…” Stiles’ chuckle was cut short by Deaton’s personalized ring on his cellphone.

Leaning forward to fish his phone from the pocket of his pushed down sweats, Stiles’ belly crushed against Derek’s face for a few seconds. But the wolf didn’t stir.

Answering his phone he put it on speaker. Stiles set it on the arm of the couch. Now that he’d bonded with Derek for the first time, he was suddenly curious about his bitch’s body and wanted to explore a bit.

“Hey Doc, what’s up?”

Stiles reached down and hooked a finger through one of Derek’s nipple rings. Pulling the elongated nub out further and twisting it. This sent a shudder through the wolf’s muscular frame and the mouth on his cock tightened.

“Well, Stiles, I think I may have found a stud for your bitch.”

“Really?”

“Uh… Yes. Though the circumstances are somewhat unusual.”

The hand not teasing Derek’s nipple reached over to massage one of the dairy-were’s fat pecs.

While milking Derek’s cock-tit was still an every other day adventure, lately they were doing Derek’s tits twice a day. His dad had taken over charge of these expressings.

From the tightness under Stiles’ hand it felt like Derek could stand to be milked again now.

“Unusual? Want to explain what you mean by that?”

Stiles kneaded Derek’s chest, his eyes fixed on the milk beading on a fat tip and leaking around the piercing as he pressed. Half listening, he gave Derek’s pec a squeeze, watching twin streams of milk jet out and fall white on furry, sunkissed skin. 

“Well, I know I promised to find you a stud. Inexpensive, but with some breeding. It’s been harder than I thought but today a rather unique opportunity has presented itself.”

Despite the fact he was losing product, Stiles urged more milk from Derek’s left tit, newly fascinated by the male bitch's lactation.

“Go on…”

He rubbed the spilled milk into the dairy-were’s skin, leaving his chest hair matted and sticky.

“Well, I have a rescue here. Dairy-were. Or maybe were-coyo. Raeken lines. He was brought in from an illegal breeding lab. The doctors that had him were working on the experimental hybridizing of dairy-weres with smaller canines for city use.

“They were also trying to reactivate the dormant ‘shift’ genes in stock. Although the authorities still don’t understand why…”

It was clear from Deaton’s voice, the usually cool vet was really excited about this find. Stiles didn’t quite understand everything he was being told but it intrigued him.

“Regardless, it seems they had some success. I’m so glad I went along as an adviser. They would have put Theo down otherwise.”

“Theo is the stud?”

“Yes, that’s what they called him. Well, Theo-41595. And Theo, it seems, has the ability to shift.

“He did it there in front of us from stress when we entered the lab. It was amazing to watch.

“Anyway, I was able to get custody of him. Though it wasn’t an easy feat.”

“I can give him a shift inhibitor, but it will only take if he’s in his humanoid form and the SPCW and the ADA have given me just twenty-four hours to get him back into a domesticated state, or he’ll still have to be put down.”

While Deaton talked, Stiles’ attention had wandered from Derek’s tits down to the wolf’s balls and cock. Derek whimpered softly around his owner as his heavy, milk-filled ball sac was fondled and squeezed.

“So, this Raeken were/coyote wolf is in canine form? Is that what you’re telling me?”

Derek’s whimpers increased when Stiles's hand shifted up to play with his flaccid udder. Stiles tugged on it. It was weird feeling his palm on soft dick flesh that wasn’t his own, though it would have been much weirder if Derek had been human.

Flaccid, Derek was a good four inches longer than he was at his fullest. And three times as thick. Stiles’ cock, unfortunately, took after the rest of him in its leanness.

“Look, I know it might sound off-putting. But Derek is at a critical juncture here. He needs to be fully turned. Bred. If he’s going to stay healthy.

“He’s too far in the process now for anything else. And Theo, well, the only thing that’s going to shift him is for him to destress.

“The poor thing… Stiles, I won’t tell you what they were doing to him, but it was terrible, and then all the commotion of the rescue… Having the release of a breeding would be the best way I can think of to relieve his tension.”

Stiles poked the tip of Derek’s cock at its slit, making the wolf whimper. “So you want this Theo to fuck Derek in his dog form?"

Derek’s udder had partially filled under Stiles’ explorations. But the wolf still had a substantial amount of loose cock skin and losing interest in the head of Derek’s cock, Stiles was now pulling this forward as far as it would go. 

He watched the wolf’s foreskin stretched around the piercing in Derek’s glossy cockhead before it swallowed it up completely from his view.

On the speaker Deaton sighed. “Well, dog is a misnomer, but essentially yes. It’s the best hope I have for him.”

This teasing must have been somewhat uncomfortable as Derek began to whine semi-loudly and tried to pull off Stiles cock. A quick, sharp tap to his cheek and a “shush” had him stilled again soon enough though.

“What about the calf, if Derek catches? The whole point of this was to up his production and have another product to sell.

“Who’s gonna want a weird hybrid? Would it be able to shift too? Is that even legal?” Stiles had memorized the manual Chris had given him and done some other outside research on dairy-were husbandry since he’d gotten Derek.

“If the lycanthropy virus that comes with shifting is there, that seems like a health risk. I mean, that’s why they bred that trait out. Right?”

“No need to worry about any of that, Stiles. I already have a buyer lined up. A well paying one.”

Dipping his finger into the sheath he’d made of Derek’s foreskin, Stiles was amazed at how deep it was. It took almost his whole index finger. Not only that, but the skin of the dairy-were’s cock was so soft.

Likely the result of all the udder cream Deaton rubbed on him after each milking.

Running his finger over the smooth wet head of Derek’s udder inside the sheath he’d made Stiles pulsed his finger in and out. Catching the ring of the dairy-were’s piercing and giving it a light tug with each thrust, this pocket of increasingly slick, hot cockskin was sparking some ideas in him, not to mention making his already hard cock ache.

“Look, Stiles, I know it seems distasteful, given Theo’s present form, but there are historical narratives of pre-domesticated werewolves being… Shall we say, less than choosy in their couplings. And given Derek’s base biology, such a breeding wouldn’t be all that ‘unnatural’ really.”

“Yeah… No, I get you, Doc. I’m down with it.” Stiles was eager to get off the phone now. “I trust your judgment and if you have a guaranteed buyer for the calf.”

“Really?” Deaton sounded both excited and relieved simultaneously. “This is excellent news!”

The rest of his words were momentarily lost as Derek burst into another bout of loud whines.

This time it was a rough tug to the ring in his cock that sent the dairy-were sputtering back into silence. Once he got all the details Stiles clicked off his phone.

His groin felt soaked and pulling Derek off his hard cock he saw his pubes matted with spit. Then looking at Derek’s tearful face there could have been a fair amount of snot there too.

“Gross.” He pushed Derek up off him.

“Come on, it can’t have been that uncomfortable…” Stiles stopped himself and Derek when the dairy-were made to slip down off the couch. “Stay.”

Derek sniffled but did as he was told.

“Maybe you’re just being bitchy cause your hormones are all fucked up right now.” Stiles moved Derek so the wolf knelt upright on the couch cushions. A soft pinch to the inside of a thigh had him spreading them wider.

“Deaton said you might get that way. But I bet you’ll be back to your normal stoic self once you get knocked up properly. Tonight! Isn’t that great, buddy?”

Derek uttered a begging whine, his dark head shook from side to side. He reached out towards Stiles with fingers that shook too. Stiles took a firm grip of Derek’s wrists and placed them around the wolf’s back.

“Yeah, that’ll settle you back down. Get rid of all your jitters, for sure. But we’ve got a few hours until I need to get you tacked up and out to the clinic. So for now…”

Stiles let go of Derek’s wrists. “Stay…”

When he was sure Derek was going to mind him, grateful his dad liked a deep couch, Stiles moved up and set himself between Derek’s thighs. He pulled his tee-shirt up and hooked it over the back of his head so he could see the flat expanse of his white, mole-dotted belly unhindered.

Then he grabbed Derek’s udder and slipped out the piercing. It was a little tricky since his earlier pulling had the dairy-were’s whey flowing and made everything slick.

“Stay…”

Stiles grabbed Derek’s cock and pulled his foreskin forward again with one hand, with the other he pressed the tips of their cock together, his own looking even smaller than usual in comparison to Derek’s still only half hard udder.

Carefully he worked Derek’s dick skin over his own until he was fully docked in this impromptu sheath. Soft and slick and hot, the feeling of Derek around him made Stiles moan.

Then he looked up.

Derek’s green eyes stared back at him, his expression one of sad confusion. Stiles felt his dick twitch but not in a good way. If this kept up he’d be soft again soon.

“Head down.” His voice was husky. “Now.”

Derek dropped his chin and Stiles sighed in relief. “Bet this is a little confusing, huh?” He began to rub Derek cockflesh over his own. It felt amazing. “Probably no one ever did this with you before. Did they, big guy?”

Without having to see Derek’s face Stiles roused quickly. He started moving his hand, shushing his bitch when the motion made Derek’s breath harsh and stuttering.

Then Stiles held his hand still and fucked into Derek’s docked cock.

“Fuck… that’s like the ultimately fleshlight there… Ungh.”

Outside knowing it was Derek’s tip he was bumping occasionally Stiles thought this might feel even better than the wolf’s mouth.

His eyes fixed on the slide of his dick, Stiles groaned seeing whey pulse out around the opening of Derek’s docked flesh. He pumped and the way it looked reminded him oddly of a butter-churning demo he saw in gradeschool on a museum field trip. He couldn’t help but giggle at the thought.

“I’m churning your butter, Der.”

As their combined fluids frothed out, he used a hand to gather these up before they fell onto the upholstery and wiped them on Derek’s hairy, heaving belly.

“Such a slut, aren’t you, bud. This is making you so wet.

“You can’t say this doesn’t feel good: my dick in your cock pussy.

“Man Is there a part of you that’s not made to be bred?”

Derek issued a low sound that Stiles took as affirmation, whether the dairy-were understood his words fully or not.

Alternating between jacking and thrusting, Stiles lasted a little longer than his last fuck, but not by much. His balls still seemed to be pretty full as his seed pulsed into the sleeve of hot flesh around him and made it even more heated.

“Holy crap.” Stiles breathed once he’d finished. As he slid out, he pinched the edges of Derek’s foreskin together.

“Hold that, Der.” He grabbed a hand from behind Derek’s back and made the wolf’s stubborn fingers mimic his own.

“Now stay there until I get back.” He popped up of the couch and walked to the kitchen with his sweats still down around his lean thighs.

A few minutes later Stiles re-emerged, one hand scrubbing his groin with a damp dishtowel. The other held Derek’s designated treat bowl from the back porch. Stiles set the bowl and towel on the arm of the couch and then righted his clothes.

“Okay, drop it.”

Derek’s hand fell limply away.

Stiles held Derek’s bowl under the dairy-were’s udder, his other hand grabbed Derek’s cock at the base and pulled. He slid his closed fist over Derek’s cock milking out all the wolf’s drippings and his own cum into the dish.

Stiles set the bowl on the coffee table and picked up the towel. He scrubbed at a few spots on the cushions where Derek had leaked before the upholstery stained. Then he turned to his stock and gave Derek’s cock a rub, then his belly.

“Look at you, being so good for me.”

The dairy-were had held his position but he was trembling badly. “I can see how much you want your treat. Huh, buddy? Well, we’re almost through here.”

Stiles then lifted Derek’s bowed head and wiped his messy face, though at this point the towel was so soiled all he really seemed to be doing was spreading stuff around.

“Meh… I’ll hose you down before we head to Deaton’s.

“Gotta get you all prettied up for your big date tonight. Right?”

Stiles chuckled as he threw himself back into the couch and the towel on the floor. He snapped his fingers and pointed down. Derek stared at him, eyes baleful, his bottom lip trembling.

“Oh no you don’t. Those cow eyes aren’t gonna work on me. I told you being on the sofa was special. Don’t think I’m about to make it a habit.” He pointed down and snapped once more.

“Down!”

“And here you seemed so eager for your treat.”

Derek sniffled but slumped down off the couch and knelt at Stiles's feet. Feeling glorious loose boned and much less virginal, despite the means, Stiles relaxed and fed Derek his forgotten carrot, swirling it in the bowl.

“Like that veggie dip?” He laughed, though it was cool enough now the dish’s contents were less creamy and more scummy.

Derek wouldn’t eat any more of his carrot after about half, so Stiles set the bowl on the floor and let him have the rest of his true treat that way.

“Make sure that dish is clean, bud.”

Watching the dairy-were bitch’s tongue work was pretty arresting. But even more so was his posture. Derek cleaned up every sticky bit, his face down, palms pressed flat to the floor at each side of the bowl, his round ass up in the air and his thick thighs spread in just the position Stiles’ dad had taught him.

Derek was a pretty quick learner and suddenly Stiles wondered what other tricks he could be trained to do.

“You done there?”

Head down, Derek carefully pushed the bowl forward for his owner’s inspection. 

“Good job, Der. Come here now, big guy.”

He tapped the floor in front of him with a sock-clad foot and spread his thighs wide. Derek crawled silently over and curled up between Stiles lean legs his back pressed against the edge of the couch.

Stiles palmed the back of the wolf’s dark head and pushed until it rest against one inner thigh. He tousled Derek’s hair, petting him for a minute before turning the TV back on and picking up his controller.

When a little later, Derek tentatively nuzzled against his sweats, trying to rid a cheek of the itch of drying cum, Stiles’ dick twitched. But not with its usual fervor.

After all, they still had some hours before they needed to get ready for Deaton and after that…Well...

Stiles realized now he had all the time in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes for anyone who reads this stuff:
> 
> -Stiles is a good guy at heart in this fic. He's just really young and quickly learning the truism that "absolute power corrupts absolutely. "
> 
> -On a lark, I tried to make him 100% straight for this story. He still kind of is, since it's power that's getting him off really and not Derek's masculinity. But my brain is broken and I can't seem to put two guys in the same room together and not have them eventually fucking.
> 
> -This is second in my trifecta of porn favorites. So we have now had fisting, docking... Knotting is next kids.
> 
> \- Yeah, this fic is darker than I planned it to be. Poor Derek. It was all started in smutty good humor. What's wrong with me?
> 
> Thanks!


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